


The Armoire: Epilogue

by 221B Bitch (UndeservingHero)



Series: The Armoire [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff, M/M, demisexual mycroft, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8109718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeservingHero/pseuds/221B%20Bitch
Summary: Gregory keeps receiving gifts from Mycroft and cannot figure out why for the life of him. Eventually, he asks the motive of the British Government.
The Epilogue of The Armoire so the other can remain G rated.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the tag along Explicit chapter to The Armoire. It can be read alone though. 
> 
> Enjoy. <3

         The softness of the scarf around his neck felt like a warm coil as he carefully pulled it loose, hanging it on the waiting brass hook in the closet near the door. He followed that up closely with his coat as he looked into the parlor to see if Mycroft was in.

He saw a fire burning in the hearth, but the man was nowhere to be found in that particular room. He knew Victoria didn't keep the fires going if they were both out, minding her own in her cottage. He wandered in and found a half-finished glass of Cognac on the table by a chair and a book laid face-down on the arm of it.

Ice tinkled in the glass when he picked it up to inspect it. Not melted much. Last ten minutes, then. At least he knew he might be able to catch Mycroft before he ventured out again. He took the glass with him as he made his way toward the stairs. It was probable that Myc had gotten a call from Her Majesty or one of Her hounds about something concerning national security. Just another Tuesday night, really. Especially in their house.

He saw the light pouring down the runner of the hallway as he crested the stairs and followed it.

Instead of packing, he found Mycroft pulling a t-shirt on that looked suspiciously like one of his own over a pair of pajamas.

He smiled as he leaned against the doorframe, sipping on the Cognac. "Evening."

Mycroft looked over as he tugged the hem down a bit more firmly than he might have if he hadn't been startled. "Gregory," he said in lieu of a proper greeting.

"I thought you would be headed out again. Found this and your book downstairs looking like they'd been abandoned. You usually only do that for Her Majesty."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "No. I was just very tired of wearing a suit for once when I am home."

Gregory snorted. "Hell must have frozen over then."

Mycroft sighed. "Yes, well, it is rather cold outside at the moment." He approached Gregory and confiscated his Cognac back from his husband as he kissed him. "How is that case going?"

Gregory pulled him against him. "The murder/suicide?" he asked.

Mycroft nodded as he took a sip. "That was the one that you were pouring over last night."

Gregory sighed. "Relatively open and shut, considering. Sherlock took one look and said it was boring. So as innocuous as a murder/suicide can be. I have more paperwork to do tomorrow, but it should be settled soon."

"Good for you; bad for the victim."

Gregory shrugged. "I'll take the easy way when I can. They're rarely so straight-forward."

"Yes, I know. I can say the same about most things in my own line of work." He let Gregory's hands hold him up as he leaned back and looked him in the face. "Your night seems to be free..."

Gregory smiled genuinely at him. "Yeah. It does. And so does yours. How often does that happen?"

Mycroft's mood slipped slightly and he frowned. "I know. I apologize for that. I promised you that I wouldn't do it so often if I could help it."

Gregory raised a hand to touch his face, his thumb brushing over his cheekbone. "Don't apologize to me. I know how hard you work. I've seen you at it with Sherlock. You deserve a knighthood for all you do, but I know you will never accept one. I'm just glad that I get to have you every once-in-a-while." He leaned in to punctuate his point with a sound kiss as he pulled Mycroft right up against him.

Mycroft made that soft surprised noise he always made when Gregory kissed him like he meant it.

Cold water dripped down the back of Gregory's collar when Mycroft's arms went around his shoulders and made him shiver, but he didn't pull away. If anything, it made him more determined to keep Mycroft right where he was.

Mycroft pulled away just long enough to sit his glass down, his cold hand returning to drag up over Gregory's neck to ruffle up through the short silver hair at his nape as he kissed him.

Gregory's fingers trailed up underneath the hem of Mycroft's shirt and touched over the soft skin of his waist. A quiet noise rose out of Mycroft at the touch. He smiled against his mouth and tugged on his lip.

A quiet breath was huffed out against his mouth as Mycroft flipped open the buttons of his jacket with one hand and then went to work on the waistcoat that Gregory had taken to wearing on the regular.

He pulled away briefly to get the last few buttons loose with an annoyed sound. "I now see your problem with a three-piece suit."

Gregory laughed and tugged on the front of his own t-shirt that Mycroft was wearing. "I definitely have the preference for casuals." He pulled it up and off, tossing it into the hamper by the bathroom door before returning his wandering fingers to Mycroft's skin.

Mycroft kept working on buttons when Gregory leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the edge of his jaw, sliding along to his neck and down over his shoulder. His fingers stuttered at the contact, Gregory's five o'clock shadow roughing to leave a pale pink trail in its wake.

"Finally," he muttered as he got the last button on Gregory's shirt free.

Gregory smiled against his collarbone and nipped him before letting him go long enough to start peeling off layers. He managed to be patient enough that he laid them out over the chair at Mycroft's writing table before he got his hands back on Mycroft.

He walked Mycroft back towards the bed with his hands on his hips after kicking off his shoes. He pressed Mycroft down onto the mattress as he kissed him, putting a knee on the bed between Mycroft's thighs. "I missed you," he said against his mouth. 

Mycroft's hands came up to hold onto the sides of his face. "And I you even though I saw you last night."

Gregory smiled down at him. "Yeah, well, that's what happens when you're married. You get to miss me even when I'm only gone for ten minutes."

Mycroft returned his smile. "Yes, I suppose that's true." He traced his thumbs across Gregory's cheekbones. "It seems you've made me sentimental."

Gregory snorted. "You've always been sentimental. I just made you notice."

Mycroft rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Don't start with th--"

Gregory smothered any further retort with a kiss as he nudged Mycroft further up onto the bed. "Do us both a favour and stop sassing me when I'm trying to get you naked."

Colour found its way up Mycroft's neck to touch over his ears as he pushed himself further up on the bed. "Yes, well, I think I can manage that."

"Must be bloody Christmas," Gregory muttered with a smile to take the sting from his words.

Mycroft used his leg to kick Gregory over onto his back and rolled so he was propped up on an elbow over him. "That was last week."

Gregory looked up at him and traced his palm up Mycroft's side. "Always so literal."

Mycroft sighed. "Why wouldn't I be."

"Because you don't always have to be a killjoy. Now get down here and kiss me."

There was an argument that got swallowed in favour of covering Gregory's mouth with his own and shifting so he could get Gregory's belt and trousers open.

Gregory helped him get them and his pants off, toeing off his socks in the process as he tugged Mycroft's pajamas off, leaving kisses all over his collarbones and throat. For some reason, that always left Mycroft a mess. It made him lose whatever threshold he had, though, and had him touching every part of Gregory that he could manage.

It had taken a bit to get used to Mycroft and himself being naked together just because, at the time, he'd not had much--if any--experience with men.

Now, though, he knew exactly where to touch and why to make Mycroft an absolutely needy press against him. His mouth would be swollen in the morning from the hard kisses that came at him as soft palmed hands touched over every part of him from collar to knee.

He groaned into Mycroft's mouth when he finally wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked up slowly. His head fell back with his lashes closed and his hips road up into the offered hand even as his own searched out for Mycroft's cock.

He felt Mycroft's whole body stutter when his hand closed around the shaft and tugged carefully, pulling the foreskin up over the head before letting it recede. A quiet swear left Mycroft, and Gregory smiled as he pressed a kiss against Mycroft's jaw.

It seemed like only moments when Mycroft let go of his cock and took his away from his own, leaving them both in a sorry state for a moment. He laid his forehead against Gregory's, and they both tried to get themselves back under control, fingers lacing together briefly.

This was his favourite part, if he were being honest. The intimacy of just _being_ with someone else. The sex was nice. He wouldn’t lie about that, but there was just something special about being up close and personal with someone he cared about.

A kiss was laid across his mouth, and he couldn’t help but smile again. This was how it always was between them. It got too much for both of them, and then they would have to suffer together to get it to come back down so they could enjoy it.

“Gregory, may I?”

No need to elaborate on the question. It was the only one that ever needed an answer. He nodded and squeezed Mycroft’s fingers gently before he let him go.

He received a kiss before Mycroft shifted and retrieved what they needed.

It wasn’t often that he thought about Mycroft’s hands; usually when they were like this, naked and panting after each other. He did, however, think about how they felt against his skin when they were trailing over him.

_That_ was a thought that kept him distracted at work and on the drive home…. Or well, anywhere.

With care, Mycroft pressed into him as he dropped kisses onto his mouth and chest while his other hand busied itself with tracing over the tattoo on his side.

Mycroft’s fondness for it had startled him at first when he had spent a long time just idly tracing the lettering as they lie together in the pre-dawn light.

Considering who and what he was, he shouldn’t have been surprised at the worship that came from a deep well of devotion to an ideal.

When his body had been gentled to the idea, Mycroft hitched his leg up around his own waist and slowly pressed into him. They both groaned, Mycroft burying his face against Gregory’s neck.

Their hands found each other again, twining fingers as they moved against one another. He murmured words that he couldn’t have repeated because he had no idea what he was saying. He only knew it was something like praise.

Mycroft didn’t seem to care that it probably didn’t make any sense as he turned his head and kissed him, tightening his fingers on Gregory’s.

Neither of them lasted long after being kept away from each other for weeks; holding tightly to each other as they lost their breath to words and praises and kisses that stole the air from their lungs.

Mycroft lay with his face in the crook of Gregory’s neck as they panted and let him trace idle patterns on his shoulders. His eyelids were growing heavy with the expended energy when he said, “I am very fond of you.”

Gregory just smiled. “I’m fond of you too, Myc. Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Mycroft made a soft noise of assent before his breathing finally evened completely out, and he slipped completely into sleep.

As he measured the beating of his heart against the soft breaths against his slowly cooling skin, Gregory thought of how much they had been through to get this far in life. He threw what Mycroft would have called an ‘inane thought to a higher power that does not exist’ toward the ceiling with a word of thanks tacked on the end.

He sighed deeply in contentment and let himself fall into the clutches of sleep with a heavy weight of the best variety laying on his chest. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is really the end of this fic. I have no more to add. I have immensely enjoyed it, and the response to the whole of it has been a phenomenal experience for me as a writer. So thank you to all of you who have or will leave me feedback. It means the world to me. 
> 
> Godspeed, Comrades. May the East Wind be kind to us all.


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